The Unseen
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: Imogen Drill struggles with the hardships of being a non-witch in a witch school whilst learning to cope with her unrequited feelings towards a certain potions mistress ... (I suck at summaries, please R&R!)
1. Alarms and Diversions

**(A/N)-** I'll update my other fic I just need to get this one out, nearly done with it, just need to finish a couple more chapters. Hope you enjoy! Next chapter should be up within the next couple of days.

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**-Chapter 1 - Alarms and Diversions-**

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"Why can't we just get an ordinary fire alarm?" Imogen asked as she stared up at the space-consuming eyesore which hung from the ceiling of the assembly hall. Frank Blossom had meant well, but surely there was an easier way to go about this …

"We can't get an ordinary fire alarm, Miss Drill, because this is not an ordinary school," Constance replied simply, walking past the non-witch to head back into the staffroom.

"What about magick then?" Imogen asked, following her out, "Surely there must be some sort of alarm spell you can cast?"

"Yes, but in order to do that we would need to cast the same spell in every room," Constance sighed, "It would be in the air, so any magick cast within the vicinity could risk a Foster's effect. It would be much like a sound-proofing spell."

"Sound-proofing spell?" Imogen asked, raising a brow, intrigued, "I could use one of those."

Constance blushed but said nothing as she stopped to open the door to the staffroom.

* * *

Imogen sat in the hospital wing, feeling foolish as she held an ice pack to her head.

"And then she just flung herself into the tornado, can you believe -?"

She blushed as she overheard the girls' telling their witness story to Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom, and pulled the ice pack down further over her eyes to hide from the shame.

The familiar jingle of keys met her ears and got closer as did the tapping of those heels on the stone floor of the castle.

"So you thought you would stop the storm with your body then, did you?" Miss Hardbroom's stern voice met her ears, and she peeked out from under the ice pack to see her kneeling before her, brown eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Did you come here to make fun of me?" Imogen asked irritably with a wince.

Constance just reached up, porcelain fingers grazing over tan hands as she moved the cloth pack from her forehead, placing it on a nearby chair. She reached up again, fingers delicately dancing over the bruise above her eyebrow. It had begun to turn an ugly shade of purple and yellow, and Imogen involuntarily flinched at the touch, for it was still very sore.

The witch pressed her palm to it, causing the non-witch to suck air in through her teeth at the pain, but it was short-lived. Magick coursed through her veins, healing the injury and removing any pain she once felt. The aching in her skull had ceased, and the removal of such agonizing pain in a small amount of time made the blonde feel dizzy and drowsy.

Constance removed her hand and got to her feet, with an accomplished look in her eyes, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

"Better?" she asked.

Imogen could only stare back at her, the smell of the other woman's perfume still lingering on her skin as well as the feel of that soft pale flesh … she could feel her ears burning as she willed herself to look away, but she couldn't. Constance's smile faded softly, and Imogen's heart raced, worrying that the witch might be able to read the scandalous thoughts that were now running through her mind … like how those hands might feel elsewhere …

"Ah, I see you've fixed her up then!" Miss Cackle exclaimed happily, and Imogen managed to tear her eyes away from the ebony beauty with an awkward smile.

"Very brave of you, Miss Drill, but next time I suggest you wait for Miss Hardbroom to handle the situation."

"Or Mildred Hubble," she reminded with a smile. Constance shifted uncomfortably.

"Indeed," Amelia agreed, smiling warmly as she patted her deputy's arm lightly, "Come along Constance; the girls are waiting for us in the great hall."

Amelia headed off, and Constance made to follow, but Imogen stopped her, reaching to touch her hand but the witch froze before her fingers could make contact, looking expectantly at her.

"Why weren't you there?" Imogen asked quietly, "You're always there when there's trouble …"

Constance scowled, "That's my business. You should take care to mind your own," she replied snippily, and walked off without another word.

Imogen sighed deeply, snatching up her ice pack and following her colleagues out into the great hall.

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**(A/N)-** Please review! Next one up soon!


	2. Unforgiven

**(A/N)-** I started writing this around 10-11pm and finished around 2:30, so forgive me for any errors and whatnot. I'd rewritten it completely because I really messed up on the original. :P This is not exactly what I had in mind, but I know where I want it to end up. A big thank you to those who reviewed! I'll try to finish it ASAP. ;P

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**- Chapter 2 - Unforgiven -**

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Imogen wisely avoided Constance after that night, figuring she'd wait until the witch approached her. Imogen had overstepped her bounds, after all. She had no right to question the witch's whereabouts. Her business was her business, and that was that.

Still, had Mildred not been able to save the day (or … night) what would've become of Sybil Hallow? Imogen was useless, not being a witch. She would've never forgiven herself, even though the situation was clearly out of her control. More than that, she worried that Constance would never get over it, had the worst happened. Even though Sibyl was safe, Constance was probably still beating herself up about it. She was always there in a flash when things went wrong. What took her so long?

Imogen set off on her daily run before dawn, headphones in her ears as she jogged out of the courtyard and into the forest. She concentrated on her feet as she ran, careful not to trip over any protruding roots although by now she knew the path like the back of her hand.

She felt energized and elated after leaping over a fallen branch, not breaking her pace. An involuntary smile spread across her face as she carried on, deeper into the wood.

She soon came across the small river that ran to the pond not far from the school. And who she saw beside it made her halt in her tracks. Her iPod fell from her hand and hit the ground, pulling her headphones out with it.

"Good morning, Miss Drill." Constance Hardbroom said casually as ever as she crossed the small man-made bridge and walked towards her. She was wearing her travelling cloak, her hair up in its traditional bun as usual. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the blue light that filled the sky, for the sun had yet to rise.

Imogen smiled uneasily, "Good morning, Miss Hardbroom," she returned, awkwardly bending down to gather up her iPod, wrapping the headphones tightly around the device in her nervousness.

"What brings you here?"

"You," she said simply.

Imogen's eyebrows furrowed, "Pardon?"

"I wanted to have a word with you, and I knew you'd be here at this hour."

Imogen, being a non-witch and alone in the woods with a rather powerful witch whom she never really saw eye-to-eye with, suddenly became … well, somewhat frightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Constance said quietly in reassurance, sensing the younger woman's stress.

Imogen dared to meet her eyes and felt relieved to see that they were just as warm as they were the night before when she'd healed her …

Constance stood so close to her that Imogen could easily reach out and touch her if she dared … and as if the witch read her mind, she folded her arms across her chest in that usual stance of hers, making the barrier between them a physical one.

"I have insomnia," Constance said in an undertone although they were very much alone, and to utter these words seemed to require so much of her, for she closed her eyes in annoyance and sighed deeply, "That's why I wasn't there last night."

Imogen still didn't understand, but she knew better than to question the witch and she didn't want to press on for fear she'd only anger her, so she just nodded.

"I took a sleep draught," Constance continued, "I was still fighting it off when I arrived at the scene, when I …" she blushed slightly, "fixed your … head."

A smile pulled at Imogen's lips but she remained quiet, letting her speak.

"I expected to pass out after I used my magick on you. I didn't use it to get to the girls in time for fear of that – there's a danger of passing out if you overexert yourself …"

Imogen offered a grim smile, "Had I known I wouldn't have let you …"

Constance looked away, "Yes, well ... because I hadn't passed out, I was relieved of course, but at the same time …" she sighed, shaking her head in dismay, "the potion didn't work on me. I've been taking far too much wide-awake potion, now I'm paying the price …"

"Why are you telling me this?" Imogen asked quietly, feeling like she had just learned far too much more than she needed to know about the witch, and it felt like an ever-increasing burden. To be entrusted with this information was nice, but now she feared the witch might never trust her again for fear she'd rat out her problems to Miss Cackle sooner or later.

The witch looked at her with glassy eyes, "I don't know, I – I can't tell anyone else. I can't tell Davina, she'd never keep it to herself, and if I tell Amelia she'll only worry …"

"I'm worried," Imogen admitted, absentmindedly wrapping the headphone wires so tightly around the music device that it might snap.

"Don't be," Constance brushed off, her voice suddenly un-wavering and calm, as she normally sounded, "I'll be fine, it's just …" her voice faltered, "I don't know what to do."

"Maybe you didn't brew it right?" Imogen asked, and inwardly kicked herself for suggesting such a thing, but she immediately explained herself, "I mean, you say you're suffering from insomnia, perhaps you were too exhausted and got something wrong. It happens to the best of us."

"No, that can't be it."

"How do you know unless you try it again?" Imogen asked insistently, habitually placing her hand on her arm but immediately realized who she was talking to, and Constance's eyes flicked nervously to her hand, so she removed it right away.

"Tonight, after lights out, we'll meet in the potions lab," Imogen decided with a grin.

"Imogen," she said, and the non-witch swelled with happiness, "We can't, it's against code-"

"I won't be brewing the potion, I'll just be there to dictate," Imogen explained, "It's worth a shot, right?"

"But what if it's not that? What if it just doesn't work with me?"

"Well we'll figure it out if it comes to that," she assured, feeling rather pleased with herself. She plugged her earphones in, something the girls would never dare to do in front of their deputy headmistress, and she smiled confidently.

The witch just looked back at her, too riddled with worry to react appropriately, her brown eyes wide and sad … Imogen wanted to comfort her, but any way to do so seemed either inappropriate or awkward … but then she felt awkward leaving her.

"See you tonight," she said, and continued on her run, leaving the witch alone to think about all that just happened … and Imogen couldn't believe they'd had such an … intimate discussion, for lack of a better word. She tried to replay it all in her head, and she wound up tripping on an exposed root, causing her to curse under her breath.

She looked back, hoping the witch hadn't seen or heard her, but she was already gone.

* * *

Imogen waited outside the potions classroom door for what felt like hours, till her knees ached from standing around, so she wandered over to the inner courtyard and reclined on the bench, watching the stars. After a while, she'd begun to get sleepy, and was almost completely certain that the witch had stood her up.

Checking her watch, she realized that it was well after midnight – well past the time that Constance would've stopped doing her rounds for lights out. Exhausted and irritable, Imogen dragged herself off of the stone bench and headed up to bed.

She should've known it was too good to be true. To finally be acknowledged and confided in by someone as great and powerful a witch as Constance Hardbroom … perhaps she had dreamt up their little run in earlier that day …

She spotted the potions mistress as she headed down the hallway to her bedroom, and she stopped to look at her, to see if she might say something. Imogen had half a mind to say something, but she refrained. The witch moved about like a ghost, her silk pajamas flowing with her long ebony locks as she patrolled the halls, lantern held high like a beacon.

Eventually she froze in her steps. She must've felt the blonde watching her, for she looked over in her direction immediately, her brown eyes big and dark in the night.

Imogen looked back at her, expressionless, and walked back to her room, her heart feeling like a ton of bricks.

She wanted to turn around and confront her. She wanted to know why she told her about her troubles, and why she turned down her help. She wanted to know how many more years it would take for her to work at this establishment before she was finally treated at least somewhat of an equal to her.

Her anger swelled up inside her as she approached her room and entered without having been called back by the witch.

She decided right then and there that she'd given up on Constance Hardbroom for good.

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**(A/N)-** I know this ended on a sour note, but it gets better! :) Please review and have a nice day! :D


	3. Another Chance

**(A/N)-** Apologies for the wait! Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed, it means a lot! This fic in general has been somewhat unintentionally inspired by Ellie Goulding's song "I Know You Care" if anyone is curious check it out ;p Anyways, enjoy! Next should be up sooner!

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**- Chapter 3 - Another Chance -**

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"Excellent serve, Ruby!" Imogen complimented from across the yard, "Great save, Drusilla!"

She walked the length of the courtyard, keeping an eye on the girls as they played volleyball, calling out encouragements here and there. She was feeling rather lazy today. Normally, she'd be at the sidelines coaching them but today she just couldn't be bothered. She supposed it was because she wanted them to play all on their own without her yelling instructions and tips here and there … but really it was because she couldn't get her mind off of a certain witch …

She swung her lanyard in circles as she walked, wind gently passing through the whistle at the end. She scuffed her sneakers in frustration on the cobblestone, and lifted her green eyes to look towards the staff room window.

And there she saw Constance, through the diamond-patterned window pane, looking back at her.

She dropped the whistle in surprise, and retrieved it immediately, but once she stood back up, the window was empty.

Perhaps she imagined it?

"Good afternoon, Miss Drill."

She jumped out of her skin and spun around to see Constance Hardbroom standing before her, arms folded across her middle.

"May I have a word with you?" she asked, as calmly and professionally as possible but Imogen could spot just a hint of reluctance and regret in her eyes.

Imogen stared back at her, trying not to glare at the witch as she recalled how she stood her up the night before.

She put her hands on her hips, "I'm in the middle of a class."

"Please?" Constance asked, a bit more gently, her eyes softer than usual.

Imogen watched her eyes for a moment and sighed, "Girls –" she called, but the witch cut her off.

"Class dismissed!"

The sports mistress looked to her in outrage, "Excuse you?"

"Miss Cackle's at Cosie's and Miss Bat's out picking daisies," she explained quickly, "I too have dismissed my class early. Miss Cackle decided it should be a half day, for whatever reason."

"Well you could've just told me," Imogen muttered.

"What? And risk not seeing that look on your face when I dismissed your class for you?" Constance asked, suppressing a grin.

"I really don't think you're in a position to make jokes at the moment, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen replied with an icy stare.

"Yes, well, that's precisely what I wanted to talk to you about …" she replied quietly, looking ashamed of herself. She nodded over her shoulder and the non-witch followed her to the potions lab.

Once she shut the door behind her, she explained herself.

"I've been on edge since that incident the other night. I didn't want to leave the girls too early, and I must've lost track of time."

"Of course," Imogen replied simply with a nod, refusing to meet her eyes.

Silence fell momentarily between them.

"You don't believe me," Constance realized.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you didn't tell the whole truth, now would it?" Imogen retorted, looking up into her baleful eyes, "_You_ came to _me_ for help, Constance." She reminded pointedly.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Constance replied in annoyance, scowling at her.

"Try me."

"I thought I heard something last night, that's all. I was determined to find the source of it, but I hadn't. I didn't want to tell you because there's no use terrifying anyone over some unknown entity-"

"A ghost?" Imogen asked skeptically.

Constance blushed, "No, I don't think it was, I mean …" she sighed, "It was voices. It could've been the girls but I'd checked in on every single one and they were all fast asleep."

"They could've been faking it, just trying to scare you …"

"I can tell when they're 'faking it', Miss Drill," she insisted, "It was something else. I don't know what it was, but I'm on duty tonight so –"

"No you're not – I'm on duty tonight." Imogen declared, crossing the room to enter the store room, "You are going to get some well-needed sleep tonight."

"Not tonight!" Constance snapped, following after her, "Are you suggesting I endanger the welfare of the girls yet again-"

"Hearing voices isn't a good thing; it's probably from your lack of sleep …"

"Trust me, Imogen, it's not from sleep deprivation, I _distinctly_ heard voices and, sleep potion or not, I will not get any rest until I find the source."

The potions mistress stopped in her tracks, watching as the non-witch scanned through the many bottles in one of the cabinets that had been left ajar.

"What are you doing?" Constance asked in amusement.

"Trying to find something that sounds like it might induce sleep since I have a feeling you're going to fight against brewing a sleep aid – a_ha_!" she pulled out a small vial with an accomplished grin, "Lavender!"

"That is one of the ingredients, yes … how did you know?"

"Lavender helps one relax. I'm not entirely daft when it comes to these things," she dangled the bottle in the air by its neck, and Constance retrieved it from her.

"Apparently not," The witch replied with a raised brow, fighting a smile, "But we're _not_ making the potion."

"Why not? It's a half day, what else were you planning on doing?"

"I have papers to grade, books to reshelf, files that need reordering, supplies to replenish –"

The non-witch stopped her in mid-sentence by grasping hold of her hand.

"You weren't supposed to answer that," Imogen said with a half laugh, releasing her, "Come on, it can't take that long."

Constance sighed, "If we're caught …"

"I won't be brewing it, you will."

"That's not what I mean," Constance corrected, eyes narrowing at her before crossing the room to fetch a spell book from the shelf, "You and me, together, actually getting along …" she turned and placed the book down on the table in the center of the room more carefully than one ought to place any book.

"People will talk." She said finally, her brown eyes glancing up to meet hers.

Imogen just looked to her shoes, feeling ashamed but she wasn't sure exactly why …

"Why do you care, all of the sudden?" Constance asked suddenly, genuinely curious, "You never seemed to worry about me before …"

"I never saw a reason to worry," Imogen admitted, "You've always seemed well off … and I've always cared, you just … never seem to allow anyone to."

Constance felt exposed all of the sudden, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words would form. So instead, she grabbed hold of the book and searched through its pages, "Shall we get started then?" she said finally after she'd found the directions and list of ingredients for a sleeping draught.

She pretended to be busy with the book, but she did not flinch or move away as Imogen neared to get a better look.

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**(A/N)-** Reviews! :D


	4. Voices

**(A/N)-** Sorry this is late! I plan to finish it soon! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! :)

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**- Chapter 4 - Voices -**

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The potion needed to brew and Imogen had to see to supper, so she reluctantly left the witch and headed off to the great hall. She stood alone by the empty fireplace, chewing her nails as she stared into space, occasionally snapping out of it to cast her eyes around the room, making sure that the girls weren't up to any mischief. They were nearly done eating, and she looked over to see Miss Tapioca start to gather the pots and cutlery.

Three loud claps from beside her made her jump out of her skin.

"Finish up now, girls, it's time for bed!" Constance shouted over their chattering, and instantly they quieted down and those who had already finished began to stack their empty plates.

Imogen narrowed her eyes at her, "Was that necessary?" she asked, fighting a small smile.

"Entirely," Constance replied coyly, folding her arms.

"Did you take the sleep draught?"

Her face faltered ever so slightly, so brief that if one blinked, they would've missed it.

"Yes." She replied, but her eyes wouldn't meet the blonde's as she watched the girls clean up.

Imogen didn't believe her, but she didn't see the sense in fighting – evidence from lack of sleep was bound to happen sooner or later and she'd be found out anyway.

"Good."

Constance looked somewhat surprised, for a flicker of a second, to see that Imogen had believed her.

"If anyone here deserves a good night's sleep, it's you."

Constance blushed, looking down, "Do you think it will work? The first time, it-"

"If it doesn't, we'll find some other way," Imogen assured, blushing at just what that might've implied, "Don't worry about that now."

Imogen turned to help Miss Tapioca, and Constance snatched her wrist, for a moment forgetting where she was. The girls didn't appear to notice them anyway.

The non-witch looked round at her, questioningly, and Constance released her, looking worried.

"If anything happens tonight-"

"I'll let you know," Imogen reassured with a smile as she easily stepped away from her grasp, "Pleasant dreams."

Constance watched the woman walk off for a moment before taking a breath and returning to her normal self, magicking up the dirty plates with a flick of her wrist.

* * *

"Lights out, Mildred," Imogen reminded quietly, nodding to the candle.

"Yes, Miss Drill," Mildred obeyed, blowing the candle out and tucking in for the night.

"Goodnight, Mildred," the sports mistress said with a smile.

"Goodnight, Miss Drill," Mildred beamed back, snuggling into her pillow, her cat Tabby fast asleep at the foot of her bed.

Imogen patrolled the halls, latern in hand, checking in on each and every student to make sure their candles were out. Some of them appeared fast asleep already, worn out from a long day of classes.

She finished the 4th year corridor and decided she should hang out in the staffroom for a few minutes as usual before patrolling the halls again. It was her usual routine, not one that the others might consider appropriate but it had always worked for her.

She was about to head down the stairs when she stopped and found herself looking down the long corridor that led to Miss Hardbroom's bedroom.

For a moment she wanted to check in on her, to make sure she was asleep as well …

She shook her head at her ridiculousness, knowing for sure that if Constance was awake, she would be none too pleased to see Imogen creeping in her doorway.

With a sigh, she headed down the stairs and towards the staffroom, and that's when she heard it.

Soft whispering voices emanating from the classroom corridor, like several people conversing with one another. It was so barely audible that she couldn't tell if the voices were adults or children, male or female. She thought she was hearing things at first, until she stopped in her tracks and stood still as possible. There was no doubt about it – there were voices.

Just like Constance said …

"Hello?" Imogen called out, "Is someone there?"

Quietly and carefully, she headed down the hallway, and the voices ceased. She crept on until she got to the potions lab door, and was surprised to find it open. A lone candle flickered in the potions store room, and she sighed in relief.

"Constance," she grumbled, "I knew you didn't drink the sleep draught," she said in a huff as she opened the door all the way and walked over to the store room, "I swear, sometimes you're worse than the …"

She entered the room to find Constance wasn't there at all … no one was there … but it wasn't like Constance to leave a candle out, burning like that, let alone leave her classroom unlocked …

Imogen blinked dazedly for a moment, and shook her head, feeling silly. She blew out the candle, and as she did, the door slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump and yell in fright.

The silence in the room was deafening as she caught her breath for a moment and hurried to leave, grasping the doorknob but it would not budge. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest as she struggled to no avail.

"Help! Someone!" she called out, and the voices returned, becoming more coherent, more … sickly familiar.

She turned to look and saw three puffs of smoke hovering in the air towards her, one purple, one blue, and one green. The voices began to laugh at her, cackling at her in her distressed state.

"_Constance!_" Imogen screamed, knowing it would be to no avail.

The smoke seemed to race through her, causing her to gasp audibly and clutch her chest as an immense pain shot through her, making her feel suddenly very heavy.

She felt herself beginning to black out just as Constance Hardbroom appeared in her night clothes, and Imogen unintentionally stumbled straight into her arms with such a force she nearly took the witch down to the ground with her, but Constance reacted quickly, bracing herself and setting Imogen down gently on the dungeon floor.

The last thing she saw was Constance's face in the pale moonlight before her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"_Imogen?!_" she practically shrieked, shaking her by her shoulders, "_Imogen can you hear me?_"

She felt the witch's hand touch her face and then … everything went black.

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**(A/N)-** Evil, evil cliffhanger, I know ;p Reviews please!


	5. Nothing

**(A/N)-** apologies for any errors! sorry for the wait! thank you for the reviews! enjoy! :)

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**- Chapter 5 - Nothing -**

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_"There," Constance said as she tossed the last of the ingredients in, stirring it a few times before letting it sit, "It needs to brew for an hour before it will be ready …"_

_She was caught off guard as the blonde's hand enclosed over hers as it perched on the edge of the desk, gripping it lightly as her thumb swept over her soft porcelain skin. It sent the witch's pulse racing._

_She watched for a moment before looking up into the non-witch's eyes, "What are you doing?" she asked, not in a mean sort of way, actually she sounded more genuinely curious than anything._

_"Sorry," Imogen apologized with a blush as she released her, but Constance quickly caught her hand in hers._

_"Don't be," Constance breathed as she rested her hand more comfortably into hers. She smiled, but the non-witch was too shy to look up and see it. But still she smiled as well, looking down at their joined hands._

_The lunch bell rang, and they broke apart._

_"That's my cue," Imogen said with a sigh, stepping around the desk and almost tripping on her own feet._

_"Thank you," Constance said quietly, almost inaudibly, but the non-witch heard her and she finally met her eyes again, "For helping me with the potion …"_

_Imogen smiled softly, nodding, "Anytime."_

* * *

Constance sat beside the hospital bed, her eyes red from the crying she'd done on her stockroom floor, clutching her unconscious colleague to her chest before finding the strength to move herself and Imogen to the hospital wing. She was too distraught to magick them there, and she feared possibly harming the sports mistress if she did. Constance had no choice but to carry her, and she found out that the younger woman was surprisingly light. With the blonde's head resting in the crook of her neck, she carried her in her arms off to the hospital wing, struggling to keep herself from crying if only so her vision wouldn't be so clouded with tears.

She rang the emergency bell for the nurse several times after laying Imogen down on the bed. She refused to leave her side, lest something else happened to her … she couldn't even bring herself to fetch Amelia – Nurse Hawthorne rushed to wake her after checking Imogen's vital signs. The young nurse had rushed to the academy fast as she could – any nurse they had on staff usually lived in the nearby town as most injuries the girls had could be easily fixed with a potion or a spell … and yet despite the young medi-witch's haste, Constance still found herself very cross with her for taking as long as she did. She chalked it up to misdirected anger, but she was too stressed and worried about Imogen to apologize.

Constance sat there in silence, awaiting Nurse Hawthorne's return. She watched the non-witch's face, feeling rude for staring at her but she soon realized she'd never really looked at the woman before. Despite her cropped hair and boyish appearance, she actually was … rather beautiful. There was a certain femininity to her that she couldn't quite place … Perhaps it was because, despite her hardy nature at times, she had rather soft features … delicate … vulnerable … especially in her current state.

She watched the steady rising and falling of her chest, ever so subtly as if she were only sleeping. If it weren't for the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor, she would worry that she was only imagining the small movement. She had tried before to wake her when she brought her here, for although she appeared to be at peace the witch wanted nothing more than to see those green eyes open again and let her know that everything was all right … but the nurse said to let her be and despite herself she obeyed.

She looked down at Imogen's hand, the same hand whose wrist was attached to the machine by a small wire taped to her. Constance found herself reaching out and holding her hand gently, enjoying the warm softness of her skin, wishing the damned bell hadn't interrupted them the last time she held her … she didn't understand the motivation behind the gesture, but she enjoyed the touch and she wished she hadn't let go … more than anything she wished she had taken over lights out duty …

She held her hand, hoping to feel the slightest movement, perhaps a slight squeeze but … there was nothing.

"I'm so sorry, Imogen …" Constance found herself breathing barely under a whisper, and fresh tears flowed down her cheeks. She knew something was amiss, those voices she heard … and yet she still allowed Imogen to take lights out duty … she was about to drink the sleeping draught potion they'd brewed together when she had heard her scream her name out in terror …

Amelia rushed in, breaking her out of her thoughts, the nurse on her heels. Constance squeezed Imogen's hand, her overall sense of propriety urging her to let go in the presence of her headmistress, but she fought it, and her hand remained.

"What happened?" Amelia asked, looking frazzled, her hair up in a net and she was wearing her nightdress. Her gaze looked from her fallen colleague to her deputy headmistress, and she must've noticed she'd been crying, for she suddenly wrapped her arms around her as she sat there. Constance, despite her usual demeanor, was overcome with emotion and found herself choking back a sob as she buried her face into the older woman's shoulder, upset all over again at the predicament her colleague was in. Her hand remained clutching Imogen's – it was the only thing that helped to keep her grounded.

"Something attacked her," Constance finally managed as Amelia pulled away, "Or _someone_. I don't know. I heard her scream and I came into the potions stock room the moment she collapsed …"

"Is she stable?" she asked, eyeing the heart monitor and looking to Nurse Hawthorne.

The black-haired nurse nodded. She appeared too young for this position and quite honestly her presence and diagnosis didn't comfort Constance at all for she thought the woman too inexperienced for this job.

"She's unconscious," the nurse said, "Other than that she seems to be perfectly fine."

Constance rolled her eyes in doubt but said nothing, her eyes returning to Imogen.

"So there aren't any external injuries?" Amelia pressed.

"None that I've seen," the nurse answered, looking to her feet with a blush, "She seemed untouched so I thought it unnecessary …"

"Some nurse you are," Constance couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

"_Alright_, Constance," Amelia calmed, gripping her shoulder.

The young woman looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot as she wrung her fingers behind her back, "I can keep watch overnight, and let you know if there are any changes?"

"That won't be necessary," Constance replied in clipped tones, giving Imogen's hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll stay with her."

Nurse Hawthorne nodded, not wanting to argue, "Ring me if there are any changes," she said, and dismissed herself.

Amelia looked to her deputy, "Are you sure you want to -?"

"I heard voices the other night …" Constance said, lowering her voice in case Hawthorne overheard. Her eyes started to well up, "I shouldn't have left her alone, Amelia, it's all my fault …"

"Of course it isn't!" Amelia shushed, rubbing her shoulder lightly in an attempt to comfort her, "What do you mean by voices?"

"I don't know … people talking … I thought I was hearing things … perhaps it's unrelated, but it seems too coincidental …"

"You don't think it was the girls?"

"Amelia, I would know, _trust_ me," Constance replied, looking seriously up at her headmistress, "Something fishy is going on."

Amelia rounded the bed and placed her hand to Imogen's forehead briefly, brushing her hair out of her face, "Can you make your own diagnosis?"

"I can try …"

She finally released Imogen's hand and stood, pressing her spell-casting fingers to the non-witch's forehead. Blue light emitted from her fingertips, and she sent her magick coursing throughout her veins, scanning her body for any signs of abnormalities, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing at all …" Constance breathed, taking her hand away, falling back onto her chair in defeat, "Miss Hawthorne was right – she seems to be perfectly fine …"

"Well, she should still be monitored, all the same," Amelia said, pressing a kiss to Imogen's forehead, "Don't hesitate to wake me, whatever happens."

Constance nodded as Amelia gripped her shoulder again comfortingly before leaving.

Her hand found Imogen's once more, and she clutched it in both of her own, her thumb brushing across her soft tanned skin.

She spent the night beside her bed, watching and waiting until she eventually dozed off, but she still held her hand, hoping that she might awake to the feeling of Imogen giving her a comforting squeeze.

* * *

**(A/N)-** Sorry if this was depressing! It gets better - sort of? Reviews please! :)


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